


This Is Ours

by princehummel



Category: Glee
Genre: Barista Kurt, British Blaine, British Klaine, British Kurt, Klaine, London, M/M, Warbler Coach Blaine, klaine AU, writer blaine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princehummel/pseuds/princehummel
Summary: Kurt Hummel had graduated University wanting nothing more than to work at Vogue, and considering his talent, he was more than capable of getting a job there. Sadly, though, his lack of confidence had held him back and instead, he was now working in a London cafe. He still had a dream of one day working at Vogue, but that just didn't seem like a very realistic dream to him anymore.Someone might turn that around, though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To quote my bio, if you're reading any of my stuff, first of all, thank you!! I'm flattered. Please just note though that my writing is in no way professional, which is why there are mistakes all throughout it and why some of it might not make sense. So if you're looking for a really professional story, this might not be for you, since I just do it for enjoyment :)

“ _We met in a cafe, and, well… lets just take it from there.”_

7:00 AM.

On a Monday.

God, how Kurt wished he didn't have to get up quite so early on weekdays. Serving hot beverages to people at ‘Notes’ for 9 hours per day, five days a week, really wasn’t the ideal job, even if it was one of London’s most popular cafes, and the usual rude, obnoxious customers that came and went just made it worse. He always had to swallow his rage when serving those kinds of people, or he would probably give in to the urge to spit in their coffee. Kurt saw this as a temporary job, though. He definitely didn’t want to work there forever—the thought of it terrified him. But the thought of getting a bigger job terrified him, too. In his dream world, he would be working for Vogue, but he just didn’t really see that happening in reality. He had graduated University, ready to take on a world of Fashion & Design, then chickened out and become a barista, and roughly a year later, at the age of 22, he was still there, and even though he didn’t want to be there, he would still continuously refuse to try getting a different job. Probably because there was still a minuscule bit of hope inside of him that his next job would be at Vogue. It’s just, he didn’t know _when_ he would actually get that job, or if he even would at all, which created this endless cycle of hope and hot beverages.

Being a barista wasn’t the _worst_ job, though. He did kind of enjoy it. Making the drinks was enjoyable—most of the time—and so was putting little patterns in the foam that would appear on the surface of them. He also liked the sweet, cosy smell of the cafe that was so welcoming and homely, and he also liked occasionally trying out a new technique in making the beverages, and in response, seeing a customers face light up when they tasted it. That was a rather pleasing thing to see. The thing he liked most, though, was speaking to the customers and sharing little one minute conversations with them as he prepared their drinks. It was nice getting to talk to people like you would talk to your friends, but not have to worry about keeping in touch with them afterwards. However, he had actually become friends with a few of the regulars, and that was nice too. There was one regular he favoured over any of the others, though. _Blaine_ _Anderson_. He was kind, intelligent, and extremely well groomed and dressed with his variety of casual and smart outfits that perfectly accompanied his dark, curly, every so slightly tamed hair. He had pearly white teeth and faint stubble that perfectly complimented his golden skin and honey-tinted eyes that glowed amber whenever they caught the sunlight. And even though Kurt—and pretty much everyone he ever spoke to—had a strong British accent, something about Blaine’s was so distinctively charming, and Kurt enjoyed listening to him speak. Kurt wasn’t attracted to Blaine, though. Sure, he was immensely _attractive_ , but Kurt wasn’t _attracted_ to him. They were merely friends that had bonded over Blaine ordering and Kurt serving tea.

7:15 AM.

Kurt groaned once his alarm went off for the second time. He didn’t want to get up. If it weren’t for Blaine staying in the cafe, typing on his laptop and being a fairly interesting person to talk to, then Monday would be the worst day of the week. Instead, it was Tuesday. That’s when things got really dull and the week really seemed to begin. Every morning was a struggle, though, especially when his bed was simply the perfect companion. Nevertheless, he knew he had to get up, so after a few more moments of procrastinating in the warmth of his bed, he sleepily stumbled out of the covers and into the bathroom where he styled his hair into a sweeping up-do and put on a stylish outfit of grey, skintight jeans, a white, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, finished off with a burgundy scarf and a grey hat that sat perfectly on his chestnut brown hair. Whenever he wore that particular hat, he always felt exceedingly classy (even though this was Kurt, who always looked exceedingly classy, whatever he was wearing). Probably because it was the one expensive hat he had, though—it had cost him about £250.

Once he had made his way downstairs and swiftly eaten a bowl of cereal, he slipped on a pair of Doc Martens, grabbed his brown, leather satchel and began his walk to the cafe. The London streets were busy and thriving with the usual morning bustle of people hurrying off to their jobs, and there was the everlasting sound of red buses and black taxis driving past at dangerously fast speeds. Exactly _why_ they drove so fast baffled Kurt—he had definitely almost been hit a couple of times, so he was always hyper aware of his surroundings. There was always that one taxi that just came out of nowhere, though, leaving him traumatized for minutes afterwards, thinking how he could’ve lost his life a few moments ago but miraculously didn’t. But aside from the literal deathtrap that foolishly went by the name of “London Street”, his walk to work was nice and refreshing, and it gave him a while to breathe and think. Not that he had anything particularly interesting to think about, though: just what he’d have for dinner that night, or how many obnoxious people would come into the cafe that day, or who planted all the trees in London, or how old the oldest tree was. Or Blaine. He wasn’t sure why he thought about Blaine. They had only been friends for a few weeks, and that was only within the cafe, but he still thought about him, and he thought about him quite a lot. However, they did have a lot in common. They both liked fashion, they both liked tea (a lot), they both liked music, they both thought about strange things that other people may judge them for, but they accepted each other’s strangeness because it was normal to them, and there was a lot more that they had in common, but mainly, Blaine was just a very interesting person, _and_ he appreciated Kurt’s sense of fashion. Not a lot of people ever let Kurt know that they liked his style, but Blaine did, and Kurt loved that he did. It made him feel like all his bargain searching and making his own clothing had paid off. Not that he _needed_ someone tell him that his outfits were nice, though. He just liked it.

By 7:30 AM, Kurt had arrived at the cafe and had 5 minutes to spare until it opened and customers would begin to flood in. He pushed open the little black cafe door and walked through, the bell above it ringing. Kurt wasn’t sure why there was still a bell there. It had originally been put there when the cafe was first built and barely anyone came in and so the baristas needed it to alert them when customers _had_ come in because they had begun to fall asleep out of boredom, or were deep in thought, browsing on their phones. Now, though, customers would come in pretty much every two minutes, so it had become quite pointless. It was sweet, though, and he figured it would feel a little odd not having it there now, however pointless it was.

Once he had walked across the cafe to behind the counter, he took his black apron off of one of the hooks on the wall and fastened it up behind his back before using those 5 minutes to his advantage, looking at his reflection in one of the coffee machines and cleaning up a few strands of hair that refused to cooperate after being blown out of place by the wind. After a moment of combing the strands back with his fingers, he suddenly looked up from his attempted makeover, slightly startled, when he heard the bell above the cafe door ring. One of his colleagues (and friend since high school), Rachel Berry, had arrived just in the nick of time, as per usual.

“Morning,” Kurt said with a smile as she made her way over to the counter, her long chestnut brown hair bobbing with every bouncy stride she took.

“Helloooo,” she responded, a slight sing-song tone to her voice. Rachel and Kurt had met in high school through the glee club, and although they really hadn’t gotten along at first, after dozens of fights over solos and “who wore the outfit better”, they had eventually become friends. Now, she was training to—hopefully—become the next biggest Broadway star, so she was constantly vocalizing, wherever she was and whatever she was doing. Sure, it was sometimes annoying as hell, but Rachel’s optimism never failed to remind Kurt that hope is such a valuable possession, and although he didn’t have much of it, it could often do a whole lot of good, because he was more than certain that with her amount of hope and talent, she would indeed become the next biggest Broadway star. He just needed to work on having a little more hope of his own, because he clearly didn’t have enough—he was still working in a cafe after a year.

“Hey, isn’t Blaine staying in the cafe this morning?” Rachel asked once she had reached the counter, bending down to the floor and picking up her tangled apron that had fallen from it’s hook. Kurt looked at her in confusion for a moment.

“Yeeaah?” he drawled. Why was she asking about _Blaine_?

“Huh, okay,” she responded, hooking the apron around her neck.

“Why do you ask?” Kurt wondered, inquisitively tilting his head. She hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Just…”—she sighed—“don’t lead him on, Kurt. You know, if he does turn out to be gay.”

“How— _why_ would I be leading him on?” Kurt responded, quite confused, watching as she fiddled with her apron.

“Well, you guys just talk a _lot_ , and you know, what with your situation, I wouldn’t want him to fall in love with you and then you break his heart,” Rachel said, fastening the fabric up behind her back. Kurt’s “situation” was that his mother had openly expressed her homophobia, and the thing was, Kurt was unquestionably gay. He had never had any attraction to girls, ever, but he _definitely_ had to boys. At first he didn’t understand it, but when he realised that he was attracted to boys and according to his mother it was “wrong”, he had immediately tried to push the feelings away. His mother would always say how terrible being gay was whenever she saw a homosexual couple, and that “boys shouldn’t love boys” and “girls shouldn’t love girls”. The fact that his mother felt this way terrified Kurt. He had these feelings that he couldn’t stop, and he tried to make himself like girls, but it was simply impossible. So over time, he gradually taught himself not to feel any attraction towards boys. Well, as much as he _could_. He still felt attraction to them sometimes, but it usually wasn’t a problem because he would never act on it and he’d generally never see these people ever again. Kurt had told Rachel that he was gay, though, and she totally accepted it, but Kurt knew that his mother wouldn’t and that she would disown him for sure. However, his father was okay with homosexuality. It wasn’t his favourite thing in the world, but he accepted it, and his mother didn’t like that he did. Neither of them saw it as a problem, though, since in their minds, Kurt was straight. He had never told them about the things he felt and had spent his entire childhood pretending to be someone he wasn’t, and it totally sucked, but he always had hope that he would eventually be able to come out. Except all these years later, he still hadn’t. He was scared. He was scared for himself and he was scared of his mother disowning him and he was scared that it might ruin his parents’ relationship, and so he kept on pretending. But maybe pretending was the best thing to do, anyway.

“Rachel, we’re _just_ friends,” Kurt responded, a slight irritation to his voice. “Why can’t two guys talk and there be no romance involved?”

“They _can_ , Kurt. Just make sure that he’s thinking the same thing.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he is, Rachel. I don’t even think he is gay. He’s never really hinted that he is.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Good.” Kurt briefly shook his head and blinked before looking over to the cafe door, where an employee was flipping the sign around to ‘open’, and pretty much immediately after, a rather grumpy, sleep-deprived woman came in to pick up a strong coffee to help wake her up. ‘ _Hooray for yet another day of non-stop drink serving!’_ Kurt thought. Not two minutes after he’d finished finished up a very black coffee for the woman and she’d sluggishly walked out while slurping at it, a couple more customers entered the cafe, which he served. And then more customers. And then even more, and before long, Kurt had served a few dozen, most of whom were _obviously_ not morning people due to their pale skin and dark bags that they were sporting under their eyes. As people continuously piled in, two lines gradually started to grow behind Kurt and Rachel’s counters. Kurt kept looking up every 30 seconds as he made the drinks, discreetly checking to see if Blaine had come in yet (because he _did_ look forward to him coming in), which he hadn’t. He didn’t usually come in until about 8:00, though, which meant there were still roughly two minutes until he hopefully would.

Over time, Kurt had gotten incredibly skilled at his job, especially at making tea. None of his colleagues knew how or _why_ it tasted so much better than theirs, because they all used the same technique. They figured it was probably just because he had such delicate, slender hands and he always made it so gently, his hands gliding around the workspace and treating all the ingredients with such care. Or maybe it was simply because he was Kurt. Stylish, smart, talented Kurt. Kurt, who they all knew could definitely get a job working for Vogue, but who was completely oblivious of that, however many times they assured him he would. Maybe that was why it tasted so much better.

When Kurt heard the bell ring once again, he looked up and saw Blaine, and a smile grew over his face which he tried to hide, resulting in an awkward smirk. Once he had served the few customers before Blaine, Blaine moved closer to the counter, stopping in front of it and shrugging his shoulder-bag further onto his shoulder.

“Hi,” he said, a toothy grin crinkling his eyes at the corners. His hair that day was voluminous and curly from being completely untouched by gel, and a few curls fell over his forehead.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt replied, smiling back before beginning to make Blaine’s tea. Blaine thought that Kurt’s outfit looked particularly fashionable today. The thing about Kurt was that he could take the oddest garments and make them look incredible, and not just anyone could do that, and Blaine admired that. He knew that if he tried to wear something like that, he’d just look ridiculous, but with Kurt, it just… _worked_. Kurt’s hair also looked particularly stylish today. Maybe it was just because of the rays of sunshine pouring in through the large front window and making the golden highlights in it more prominent than usual, or maybe it was because of the pretty grey hat he was wearing. Either way, it was extremely pleasing to the eye, and Blaine very much enjoyed admiring his style.

Kurt looked up at Blaine through his eyelashes as he sprinkled some sugar into the tea and began to stir it. “More writing today?” he asked.

“Probably...” Blaine said, his voice slightly vague and quiet. “I’m kind of stuck for ideas at the moment, though.”

Kurt smiled, looking down at the tea as he finished off stirring it. “I still don’t know what you write about.”

“Life,” Blaine said.

Kurt raised his eyebrows in response and looked up at him. “Life?”

Blaine nodded. “Life.”

“A lot happens in life, though,” Kurt said, passing Blaine the small, white, curvy mug of tea. “How can you be stuck for ideas?”

“Thank you,” Blaine said, taking the tea and slipping some change across the counter.

"You're welcome," Kurt responded, dropping it into the cash drawer.

“And yes, that’s true,” he said, responding to Kurt’s question. “A lot does happen in life, but I’m writing about the general life of an average human being living today in London, and that’s not proving to be a particularly interesting life at the moment,” he said, taking a sip of his tea, Kurt nodding as he spoke. A customer peered over Blaine’s shoulder, clearing his throat as he grew impatient.

“Mind if I come over to your table in a bit and we continue this novel-about-the-not-particularly-interesting-life-of-a-Londoner conversation?” Kurt asked, noticing the impatient customer. Blaine chuckled. This was why he liked Kurt. He didn’t just say “conversation”, he said “novel-about-the-not-particularly-interesting-life-of-a-Londoner conversation”. There weren’t a lot of people like that that he had come across.

“If you like,” Blaine replied, then he shot Kurt a quick smile before spinning around on his feet and walking across the cafe to sit down at his usual spot, which in his opinion, was the best spot in the cafe. It was warm where the sunlight shone in through the window, and he could also look outside at the comforting streets of London, which were often his best source of inspiration. And even though the cafe was quite noisy, because everyone was a fair distance away from him and he couldn’t hear their words clearly, the constant chatter served as a white noise, making it easier to get into the headspace he needed to in order to concentrate. So once he had gotten comfy, he slipped some oval rimmed glasses onto his nose and reached into his satchel, taking out his laptop and sliding it onto the table in front of him. He flipped it open and opened up the document he was writing on and began to think, nibbling at his finger as he did so.

As Kurt served people from behind the counter, he couldn’t help but watch Blaine, wondering what else he was going to tell him about his writing when he could eventually go over there. Blaine was smart, so it was bound to be good.

After about half an hour of making a variety of coffees and teas, with Rachel’s approval, he could finally take a short break, so he walked out from behind the counter and made his way over to where Blaine sat, brushing off his apron as he did so.

“So,” Kurt said, slipping under the table into the chair opposite Blaine, then scooting it forwards with a squeak.

“So,” Blaine replied, smiling and peering at Kurt over the rim of his glasses.

“Would you tell me what you write about life?” Kurt asked, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand.

Blaine slipped off his glasses and looked at Kurt. “Honestly, not much has happened in the story so far.”

“Well… What has happened in it so far, then?”

“Um, well, it starts off in a cafe,” Blaine said.

“And then?” Kurt asked, inquisitively leaning closer to Blaine.

“And then two people meet,” he continued, his speech slow and unsure. “And they become friends.” Kurt nodded, staring at him. It didn’t sound incredibly interesting at the moment in Kurt’s opinion, but he was certain that Blaine wasn’t telling him everything.

“What happens after they become friends?” he asked, his jaw pushing down on his hand as he spoke.

“I haven’t figured that out, yet.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, a little confused. “Well, once you’ve written some more, I would love to hear about it.” A sly smile suddenly grew over Blaine’s face, and he squinted his eyes, looking up at Kurt through his long, dark eyelashes.

“Even if I _were_ to tell you, I couldn’t tell you here, where anybody could eavesdrop,” he teased, one side of his mouth curling up more than the other. There wasn’t actually a lot to eavesdrop on yet, though.

Kurt raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. “So… where could you tell me?” he asked, wondering where Blaine was going with this.

“Perhaps via phone,” Blaine said. Kurt suddenly felt a tension in his hands, his fingers curling up once he’d lifted his head off of the support of his hand.

“Wait, wait... a-are you trying to hit on me?” he asked, a nervousness to his voice. Rachel couldn’t be right about this. They were just friends, he thought.

“Wh—no! No,” Blaine quickly exclaimed, his eyes widening. Kurt’s muscles began to relax again and he quietly let out a sigh of relief. “First of all, I’m straight,” Blaine said, and Kurt felt strangely disappointed, in a way, even though he had hoped that Blaine was straight. He did his best to ignore that feeling, though, and nodded his head.

“Well, that’s good,” he said, a slightly nervous expression on his face. It soon turned into a playful one, though, his eyes hooding and a mischievous smirk appearing. “Because if you were hitting on me, I’d have had to have turned you down, which would’ve sucked for you, because, I mean, come on...” He gestured to himself and nodded smugly when he saw Blaine’s almost embarrassed expression. “Right?”

Blaine kicked Kurt’s shin playfully and looked down at the table, laughing, which caused Kurt to laugh as well. After a few moments, once they had stopped giggling, Blaine looked back up at Kurt with a smile. “Honestly, though, I’m just being friendly, Kurt. I like talking to you—you’re a breath of fresh air in this place—and honestly, it’d be nice to talk to you a bit more. You know, outside of the cafe,” Blaine explained, his voice calming to Kurt’s ears. “And I’m also saying that once I’ve spent some more time working on it, then I’ll maybe tell you a bit more about my soon-to-be bestselling novel,” he added, a slightly humorous tone to his voice.

“Best selling novel?” Kurt hummed through a smile. “Pretentious much.”

“Hey, it could be,” Blaine chuckled. “There’s no harm in being hopeful.”

“Well, tell me more about it then and we’ll see if it really is worthy,” Kurt said, reaching into the pocket on his apron and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and a pen before scribbling down his number and giving it to Blaine. “And this is merely friendliness, like you said,” he added as Blaine took it.

“Right,” Blaine said. “Just friendliness.”


	2. Chapter 2

Two days had passed since Kurt and Blaine exchanged numbers, and Blaine hadn’t been in to get his regular morning tea on either of them. Kurt didn’t know why, since Blaine had been coming into the cafe every day for several weeks now, and part of him was slightly worried. It was just so out of the ordinary, so it seemed a valid reason for Kurt to be worried, but then another part of him knew that he probably shouldn’t even be thinking about him as much as he was, because Blaine had his own life and it was perfectly fine for him not to come in every day and he was probably just busy. It was just a little strange not seeing him, and really quite boring. Kurt had considered texting him, but he thought it might be kind of weird since, well, they only really exchanged numbers in the first place so that Blaine could tell him about his story when he had written more, but Kurt didn’t know when he was going to write more. And what if he didn’t end up coming into the cafe again until he did? And what if that was another week? Or a month? Or—or a year?!

Rachel’s soft, high-pitched voice suddenly broke Kurt out of his deepening thought. “Lunch?” she asked, her thick, black trench coat briefly rippling behind her as she shrugged it on.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, blinking a couple of times. Rachel stared at him, wondering why he seemed so zoned out.

“You okay?” she asked, watching Kurt with a tilted head as he slipped off his apron and hung it up on one of the hooks. He quickly turned his head to her, taking a few seconds to process what she’d said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said as they began to make their way to the cafe door. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” she asked. Kurt pulled open the door, causing the bell to ring, and they stepped outside into the cool, frosty air.

“Blaine,” he said, looking around the street as they walked side by side down the pavement. There were still some small snow patches scattered around since the December snowfall, and clusters of tourists made their way around, stopping every so often to look at an interesting structure. The pale grey, monochromatic buildings didn’t make Kurt stop and stare anymore. When he’d first moved to London from his small old town, he’d spend a lot of time admiring them because they looked so elegant and fancy compared to what he was used to. Now, though, they were just another normality in his life. It made him chuckle how people would travel across the whole world just to see the city. He kind of wished it still had that effect on him.

“Oh, did you end up speaking to him?” Rachel curiously asked, looking up at Kurt as they walked.

Kurt looked back down at Rachel, a slightly vague expression on his face. “About what?”

“Being just friends?”

“Oh, yeah, kind of,” he responded, his voice clearer now.

“Kind of?” she asked.

“Well, he told me he was straight, so, yeah. Just friends.”

“Oh.” Rachel looked up at Kurt dubiously as she brushed a strand of hair out of her eye. “I mean, I couldn’t see properly and maybe I’m making things up… but the other day, it looked like you two exchanged numbers. I was waiting for you to say something about that, but—“

“Rachel, oh my _god_ ,” Kurt interrupted, rolling his eyes. “It was just friendly number exchanging, okay? He’s straight, he’s writing a story, and he said he’d tell me any new ideas he had for it over the phone. End of.”

“Oh,” Rachel quickly responded, a slightly relieved tone to her voice. “Okay.”

“Why were you watching me, anyway?” Kurt asked, looking at Rachel through squinted eyes as they entered a supermarket, warm heat from the vent above the doors engulfing them.

“Well, you know,”—she swallowed—“just in case you were about to do anything _really_ stupid?”

“Rachel, honey, I appreciate you being so protective, I really do. But you don’t need to be _this_ protective,” Kurt said as they walked down one of the aisles, picking out sandwiches and crisps that were part of a snack deal.

“Okay, I just...”—Rachel sighed—“okay.” Kurt shot her a quick smile before reaching into a tray of apples, picking out a red one with darker red flecks covering it and handing another to Rachel. “So… what’s this story of his about?” she asked, taking it from him with a thankful smile.

“Life,” he said as they lined up at the checkout counter.

“Hmm, interesting...” she said, a humorous tone to her voice. Kurt glared at her. “Wait, _really_? Just ‘life’?”

“Well, yeah,” Kurt said. “I mean, he didn’t really tell me much, but basically it’s about life.”

“Oh, okay,” she said as the checkout line gradually moved forward.

“Anyway, I don’t know if he even _wants_ me to tell anybody else about it,” Kurt said, and Rachel nodded in agreement. Once they had paid for their food, they took it to a park near the cafe and sat on a little bench, watching the thriving city go by as they ate it.

“Who do you think planted all the trees in London?” Kurt asked Rachel, looking at the large trees in the park as they contentedly ate their sandwiches. Rachel looked at him, a smile on her face.

“Why do you even think about these things, Kurt?” she chuckled. Kurt shrugged and let out a sigh.

“I just wonder about things, I guess. I mean, can you imagine this park without trees? It’d look so strange and bare. Someone put them here years ago, and I just wonder who did,” he said. He noticed that Rachel was looking at him with soft eyes that were full of fondness. “What?” he asked her, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, a smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“Just… don’t ever lose your wonder, Kurt,” she said, a look of pure adoration on her face. He chuckled embarrassedly, nudging her with his elbow.

“God, just when I thought you couldn’t get any more _mum-like_.” Rachel chuckled and went back to eating her sandwich. The rest of their lunch break seemed to go by too quickly, so before long they had walked back to the cafe, mindlessly chatting as they did. Just before they went in, Kurt’s phone chimed from inside his back pocket, causing his heart to skip a beat. Maybe Blaine had finally decided to text him.

“I’ll be in in a second,” Kurt told Rachel, and she rolled her eyes, suspecting that Kurt was just avoiding doing his job _again_.

“ _Right,_ ” she said. Once she’d walked through the doors, Kurt sat at one of the tables outside the front window and underneath the red and white awning and pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it. He smiled when he saw it was indeed a text from Blaine.

 **Wed** **January 7** (13:54) **Blaine:** _Okay, I haven’t reall_ _y written much more, but_ _without going into detail_ _, these two people end up hanging out at for a few weeks and they eventually exchange numbers_ _and all that kind of… stuff. I don’t know. I kind of suck at coming up with ideas_ _and I’ve been pretty busy these past couple of days._

(13:55) **Kurt:** Well, I can’t really determine whether or not that’s a bestseller yet…

(13:55) **Blaine:** _Neither can I._

(13:56) **Kurt** **:** You don’t sound as confident about it as you did before.

(13:56) **Blaine:** _I actually wasn’t confident about it in the first place._

(13:57) **Kurt:** Wait, so you *were* hitting on me?

(13:58) **Blaine:** _Does_ _a straight man_ _,_ _who very much has a girlfriend,_ _asking for_ _your_ _number so they can share their_ _mundane_ _story ideas with you mean they’re hitting on you, in your opinion?_

(13:59) **Kurt:** Yes.

(14:01) **Blaine:** _D_ _on’t get cocky._

Kurt chuckled to himself, then looked up from his phone when people suddenly began walking past him and entering the cafe, a rush of warm, coffee-infused air flowing over his skin whenever the door opened. He groaned, knowing he’d have to go back in and help Rachel serve these people. _Great_.

(14:02) **Kurt:** I need to work. For some reason 2 PM seems to be the time of day that everybody wants a hot beverage.  
(14:02) **Kur** **t:** P.S. why haven’t you been in the cafe these past two days? Kind of weird not seeing you here.

Kurt switched his phone back off with a sigh and safely slipped it into his back pocket before turning towards the cafe door, following a customer through it. As he made his way back to the counter, Rachel shot him a glare—probably because he had left her to serve customers all on her own, even if it was only for a few minutes. Rachel was known to overreact, though, however sweet she could be. It was kind of her signature thing. So for the three work hours Kurt had left, he continued to make drinks for people and talk with them in hope that time would pass a little faster, but it still went by incredibly slowly. He wanted more than anything to have another job, one that was at least a little bit more exciting, but he was a bit of a procrastinator when it came to careers. He’d just keep dreaming about a bigger one, but never actually try and achieve it and just leave it for future Kurt to deal with. The only problem was, “future Kurt” wasn’t arriving very quickly.

When the long day was finally over, he said a quick goodbye to Rachel and began his walk home. It was almost 5 PM and because it was early January, the sun was already beginning to set, making the sky a slight orange colour. In Kurt’s opinion, this was when London was truly beautiful: when the sun was slowly lowering in the golden sky, making the buildings darker, their inky shadows sweeping across the ground, and he could hear the faint sound of evening birdsong, even over the gradually quietening noises of the street. It was times like this when he would love to have a boyfriend who would warmly smile at him and ask him to dance, and Kurt would say yes, and then he’d be swept up by the man’s firm arms and they’d just slowly dance in the beautiful evening light while all his problems disappeared. He’d only ever seen that in those perfect movies with unbelievably happy endings, though. He had a thing for wishing for things that he couldn’t have.

Once he got back to his house, he slipped his key into the lock and walked inside, marvelling at the warmth. If it weren’t for his parents’ money, he would probably be living in a scuzzy flat, but luckily they were willing to help pay the rent for a cosy house.

He took off the clothes he’d been wearing all day and slipped into some soft, cosy pyjamas and almost groaned at how comfortable they felt on his skin. Then with an exhausted sigh, he collapsed onto his sofa, lightly gripping his phone in his hand. His heart suddenly skipped a beat when he remembered that he’d been texting Blaine earlier, so he sat up from his slumped position and unlocked his phone.

(14:03) **Blaine:** _Well, try not to spit in anybody’s tea. I know you want to, sometimes. I’ve seen the way you look at it. ;)_  
(14:04) **Blaine:** _And_ _to answer your P.S:_ _because work was especially busy._

Blaine did _not_ just use a winky face.

(17:17) **Kurt:** A winky face? Really, Blaine?  
(17:18) **Kurt:** But yes, that’s because I think some people would really benefit from having their tea spit in.  
(17:18) **Kurt:** And what’s your job?  
(17:18) **Kurt:** If that’s not too personal a question.  
(17:19) **Kurt:** You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.

(17:21) **Blaine:** _Okay, first_ _off_ _, what’s wrong with winky faces? I’m fairly sure that’s winky face-ist._

(17:22) **Kurt:** They look creepy. I mean, can you imagine me giving you your tea one day, and then just winking? Creepy.

(17:22) **Blaine:** _I think it’d be cute._

(17:23) **Kurt:** I thought when I gave you my number we agreed on just friends, Blaine.

(17:24) **Blaine:** _Shut up. If a dog winked it’d be cute._

(17:25) **Kurt:** You’re avoiding my question. Also, are you implying that I’m similar to a dog?

(17:25) **Blaine:** _Mm, more like a puppy._

(17:26) **Kurt:** You are ridiculous, Blaine Anderson.  
(17:26) **Kurt:** Ah! I remember your surname. I feel proud about that. Is that weird?

(17:27) **Blaine:** _I don’t think it’s weird, Kurt Hummel._

(17:27) **Kurt:** You remember mine too.

(17:27) **Blaine:** _Of course I do._

(17:28) **Kurt:** Alright, we’re getting away from the point now. What’s your job?

(17:28) **Blaine:** _M_ _aybe I_ _just_ _don’t want to tell you._

(17:28) **Kurt:** Oh, I think you do.

(17:29) **Blaine:** _Okay, I do. I_ _teach at_ _D_ _alton_ _A_ _cademy_ _and coach their_ _glee club._

Kurt stared at the text for a few moments, eyes wide and breathing paused.  
  
(17:31) **Blaine:** _Kurt?_  
(17:32) **Blaine:** _Hello? Are you there?_

(17:33) **Kurt:** Okay, what? High-class, national show choir championship winner Dalton Academy?  
(17:33) **Kurt:** You better not be messing with me.

(17:34) **Blaine:** _Y_ _ou like show choir?_

(17:34) **Kurt:** I love it! I was in my school's glee club.

(17:35) **Blaine:** _O_ _h, really?!_ _I_ _was in_ _D_ _alton's, too!_  
(17:35) **Blaine:** _W_ _hat school did you go to?_ _Maybe we competed against each other._  
(17:36) **Blaine:** _If that’s not too personal a question._  
(17:36) **Blaine:** _Which it probably is._  
(17:36) **Blaine:** _So you don’t need to answer_ _that_ _if you don’t want to._

(17:37) **Kurt:** I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or being thoughtful, but either way, you sound like me now.  
(17:37) **Kurt:** I went to McKinley High, and I’m pretty sure we did compete against each other.

(17:38) **Blaine:** _I think a bit of both. And o_ _h, yeah! You beat us_ _at_ _a_ _Sectionals, I think…_ _I can’t remember which year it was._

(17:38) **Kurt:** Yes!! That’s it! Wow. How time flies.

(17:39) **Blaine:** _Yeah…_ _I_ _t's funny how we probably_ _saw_ _each other there years ago and didn't think anything of it, and now_ _here we are_ _,_ _all these years later._

(18:39) **Kurt** **:** That is pretty wild, isn’t it?

(18:39) **Blaine** **:** _I_ _t’s a small world, Hummel._  
(18:40) **Blaine:** _Anyway_ _ **,**_ _I’ve got to go now. It was nice “chatting”_ _with_ _you, though._

(18:41) **Kurt** **:** It was nice. Bye, Blaine.

(18:41) **Blaine** **:** _Bye Kurt.  
_ (18:42) **Blaine** **:** _;)_

Kurt chuckled and rolled his eyes, letting his head drop back into the sofa cushions. Were these winky faces going to become a thing, now?

Well, a thing if they kept on texting, that is.

God, he hoped that they’d keep on texting.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Blaine was back in the cafe again, and Kurt couldn’t say that he wasn’t pleased to see him as he prepared his regular tea.

“I’ve been thinking,” Blaine began, watching Kurt’s slender hands create the tea. “Since you like show choir so much, I was wondering if you’d ever want to come and see one of the Dalton glee club sessions?”

Kurt’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “R-really?!” he exclaimed, a wide, shocked grin on his face.

“Well, yeah, if you want to,” Blaine said, smiling at how overjoyed Kurt looked.

“Yes! Definitely _yes!_ Oh my god, I would love that so much,” he said, almost squealing with excitement. Glee club had been his best experience during his years at McKinley, and it had a permanent place in his heart. Over time, though, he’d gradually drifted away from it when he became busy with University and had ended up dedicating all his focus to the work he was doing there, and his job. He still got immensely excited whenever anybody spoke about glee clubs, though.

“Would you be free tomorrow, maybe?” Blaine asked. “We’re practicing for the upcoming Sectionals.”

“Um, yeah, I don’t think I have anything planned tomorrow,” Kurt said, finishing off stirring Blaine’s tea. “What time tomorrow were you thinking?”

“How would half 5 be?” Blaine asked. Kurt smiled.

“That sounds perfect,” he said, passing Blaine the cup of tea.

“Great,” Blaine hummed through a smile. He slipped some change over the counter. “I’ll text you about it later?” he asked.

“Okay,” Kurt responded, then Blaine turned around and walked out of the cafe, sipping at his tea.

After hours of drink-serving and a short lunch break with Rachel, the day was finally over. He had been itching to properly chat with Blaine about tomorrow all day. It wasn’t often he got this excited about something, but the fact Blaine could give Kurt this much excitement just because of his job was yet another brilliant thing about him, and Kurt was very glad they’d started talking those few weeks back in the cafe. So once he’d escaped the cafe and was outside in the cool evening air, beginning his walk home, he opened up his phone to see a text from Blaine.

 **Thurs January 8** (15:24) **Blaine** : _So, tomorrow. Do you want me to give you the address? Or I’d be happy to pick you up._

(16:36) **Kurt:** If it’s not much trouble, would it be okay if you did pick me up? I’ve been meaning to refill my car for ages but I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.

(16:39) **Blaine:** _Yeah, that’d be fine!_

Kurt stopped in his tracks for a moment as he quickly typed in his address, sending the text to Blaine. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up visiting Kurt’s house in the middle of the night and murdering him—Kurt thought that was highly unlikely, though. Blaine seemed genuinely sweet and friendly and Kurt could definitely get used to hanging out with him.

(16:43) **Blaine:** _Great, so I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 5:_ _30_ _PM?_

(16:44) **Kurt:** Yeah, thank you so much, Blaine. I’m so excited for tomorrow it’s kind of ridiculous.

(16:45) **Blaine:** _I’m glad you are. It’s not often I meet_ _new people_ _who like show choir as much as I do._

(16:46) **Kurt:** I’ve never even met a single person who so much as *likes* show choir before.  
(16:46) **Kurt:** Until you, I mean.

(16:47) **Blaine:** _Well, you’ll meet a lot more tomorrow._

Kurt smiled to himself and tucked his phone into his back pocket so he could concentrate on getting home without getting hit by an insane taxi driver. As he walked, he started thinking that he should probably wear something a little bit more fancy than what he usually wore since this was an extremely posh school, and although his regular clothing was moderately fancy, all the students there were bound to be wearing blazers and he didn’t want to seem excessively out of place. So once he’d safely gotten home, he delved into his wardrobe and began skimming through rows and rows of clothing. After lots of thought, he settled upon a dark, navy blue jacket with notch lapels and sleeves that folded halfway up his forearms, some matching slacks, a pale pink shirt to give the outfit some colour, and then he finished it off with a pair of dark brown, almost grey brogues that had a slightly scuffed paler grey effect on the toe patterning. He draped the clothing over a chair so it wouldn’t look too creased the next day, then quickly heated up a bowl of macaroni and cheese to eat while he watched Project Runway. It was kind of torture watching it because _he_ wanted to be creating those clothes and he knew he couldn’t be, but he still enjoyed it. He always dreamed he’d be able to have his own fashion line one day for which he’d create marvelous couture dresses and suits, which would lead to being able to interact with the most incredible people in the fashion industry. He’d meet them and they’d shake hands and they’d praise him for his designs and he’d feel like he was _meant_ to be there. _Meant_ to be this stylish fashion icon among all the other greats. But it wasn’t anything more than a dream. So after he’d spent most of his evening squealing at the TV whenever someone designed something magnificent and then yelling whenever he knew someone was doing something wrong, he had gone up to bed and tried to sleep. He could barely shut his eyes, though. He was looking forward to the next day a lot—maybe a little too much. He just hadn’t been involved in anything show choir-esque in an extremely long time, and knowing that he would be in less than a day gave him a certain thrill, causing butterflies in his stomach whenever he thought about it. He knew he’d have to try and contain his excitement when he was there, though, or he may come off as a rather insane, overexcited 5 year old girl who just got a new My Little Pony. But maybe everyone in the show choir would turn out to be overexcited 5 year olds at heart—they were still kids, anyway. Just slightly older, more teenage kids. So perhaps not.

The next day had seemed to go by oddly fast, considering how excited he was, so once he’d gotten home from the cafe, put on his planned outfit and tidied up his hair, it wasn’t long before Blaine was knocking on his door. He had to oddly speed-walk to the door so as not to run, just in case Blaine could hear him, and then he took a deep breath and composed himself so he didn’t have a manic grin on his face when Blaine saw him. He curled his fingers around the door knob, hesitating for one more moment, then he pulled it open and a smiling, well-dressed Blaine greeted him.

“Hi!” Blaine said happily.

“Hi,” Kurt replied, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

“Wow, you look...” Blaine’s words briefly trailed off as he ran his eyes up and down Kurt’s outfit. Kurt’s outfit still had a touch of his own style in it—he had left the jacket unbuttoned and the sleeves were rolled up rather than covering the full length of his slender arms, but Blaine had just never seen him this formal before. He cleared his throat. “You look, um, you look… _great_ ,” he said, raising his eyebrows in slight astonishment. Kurt couldn’t hide his grin this time. It felt good that Blaine, who often wore incredibly debonair outfits, was complimenting Kurt on his.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling and lacing his fingers together in front of his stomach.

“So, um, shall we go?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah, just...”—Kurt looked down, feeling for his phone in his pocket, then looked back up when he was sure it was there—“okay,” he said, walking out of the door and locking it behind him. “Thank you so much for letting me come and watch,” Kurt said as they walked side by side down the street to where Blaine had parked his car. Blaine looked to Kurt at his side, smiling.

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

“So, what are you guys doing for Sectionals?” Kurt asked.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Blaine teased. Kurt looked at him, one eyebrow raised. Blaine just looked back at him, almost as if it were a competition.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” Kurt said, quietly chuckling.

“It’ll only be like, ten minutes until we get there, anyway,” Blaine reassured him.

“I know, I know,” Kurt said. “I’m just so excited.” Blaine looked at Kurt as they walked, eyebrows drawn together and a wide smile on his face. “Oh God, am I scaring you?” Kurt asked, wondering if he’d _still_ been too excitable.

“ _No_! No, no. You’re not scaring me,” Blaine exclaimed, slowing to a stop once they reached his car. “It’s so nice to know someone more _my_ age who likes show choir this much. Well, I mean, I’m assuming you’re around my age?” Kurt looked at him for a moment, a slight puzzled expression on his face—he had no idea how old Blaine was, and he didn’t want to make his own assumptions, _or_ offend him. “I’m twenty-three,” Blaine added, opening the car door for Kurt.

“Oh! Yeah. I’m twenty-two,” Kurt said, slipping into the car. “Thank you.” Blaine smiled and walked around the front of the car before joining Kurt inside.

“How old did you think I was?” Blaine chuckled as he started the engine and they began to drive.

“Well, I mean, I _thought_ you were probably about my age, but I didn’t want to guess and offend you,” Kurt replied, quietly laughing.

“Well, thank god I’m not excessively older than you thought I was,” Blaine said.

The drive there was pleasant, chatting and laughing and talking about their memories from old show choir competitions. Kurt told Blaine about the time they didn’t even _place_ after two of his group’s singers spontaneously made out on stage and everyone was so angry and upset, and although Kurt was disappointed that they didn’t win, he found it quite hilarious just how apeshit crazy some people got over it. That was a good memory, though. It was the first time they had all gone to New York for a competition, and although they screwed that up, the whole trip was amazing. They’d visited the Empire State Building, the National Museum, had actual breakfast at Tiffany’s, seen Wicked the Musical, and Kurt could’ve gone on and on about that trip, but he had to stop once they reached Dalton Academy. The building looked more like a mansion than a house. It was tall, wide and red brick, and it had large, fancy windows with gleaming light pouring through them into the rooms. Either side of the large path that led to the entrance door was grass, and there were probably a dozen trees, most of which looked like they’d been there for hundreds of years. It was quite a sight, and Kurt could barely believe that he was actually there.

“Wow,” he breathlessly said as he stepped out of Blaine’s car, unable to take his eyes off the magnificent building. “You’re so lucky you get to work here.”

Blaine chuckled, locking his car and standing next to Kurt, who continued to marvel at it. “So you like it, then?” he asked, watching how Kurt’s eyes moved across the building, admiring every little detail.

“Are you kidding me?” he chuckled. “Who wouldn’t like it? It’s absolutely amazing!”

Blaine smiled. “Come on,” he said, and they began walking to the large entrance door. It was tall and black and had some intricate patterning around the edges, and when Blaine pulled it open, Kurt’s eyes were greeted by a wide hallway with wooden flooring and bright, almost orange, glossy wooden walls with paintings hung up on them. As they walked down the hallway, Kurt couldn’t stop admiring how stunning and perfected everything looked. It was such a beautiful building to see, compared to the little cafe he was used to spending his endless days in. After walking for a few minutes, they finally turned into a room where a group of boys were scattered across several sofas, all dressed in navy and red blazers, warming up their vocals.

“Everyone,” Blaine announced, causing the boys to look around, “this is Kurt Hummel. He’ll be watching us perform today.” He gestured to Kurt, who waved and had a rather ridiculous grin on his face, and the boys smiled back at him and greeted him. They were very polite and Kurt felt welcome, despite being a mere guest.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel,” one of the boys said, standing up and walking over to Kurt, shaking his hand. “I’m Wes, these are the Warblers”—he gestured to all the other boys—“and I’m the head of the group. It was m—“

“Yes, alright, Wes, that’s enough,” Blaine said, awkwardly chuckling and pulling him away from Kurt. Wes had a tendency to take control over everything and emphasise just how much he was the head of the group, which never failed to intimidate newcomers and make the other Warblers scoff. “Alright, so do you just want to… um...” Blaine said to Kurt, gesturing to a chair.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” Kurt said, sitting down in it.

“Right,” Blaine began, standing in front of the Warblers who had now grouped in the open space in front of all the sofas and chairs. “Let’s imagine this is Sectionals. Perform like you would perform if those hundreds of people were watching you and you were competing for first place,” he said. The Warblers nodded. “Whenever you’re ready,” Blaine said, and they took deep breaths before an acapella version of Queen’s _Somebody To Love_ began.

Kurt almost gasped out of excitement, but contained himself by clapping a hand to his mouth. He remembered being impressed by Dalton performing at the Sectionals he was at, but watching them now, knowing that he wasn’t having to compete against them, gave him the ability to admire them for their pure, unadulterated talent. He was truly amazed at how they could create a song that sounded this good just by using their voices. Blaine looked over to Kurt to see him smiling, and that gave Blaine a warm, happy feeling in his stomach. He had never seen Kurt with such a bright grin on his face, and it was a really lovely thing to see. The boys’ voices gradually quietened as they song came to a finish, and when it was silent, Kurt immediately shot up from his chair and started clapping.

“Oh, wow, that was absolutely _incredible_!” he exclaimed, lightly bouncing on his toes where he was trying not to completely jump on the spot. The Warblers all took a slightly humorous bow, then Blaine walked over to Kurt.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, a wide smile on his face.

“You guys are all so talented,” Kurt said breathlessly. “And _Blaine_ , wow. Did you teach them all of this?”

“Well, they gave me a helping hand,” Blaine said, looking over to where they’d begun to scatter again, chattering and joking and browsing on their phones.

“If you don’t win Sectionals, then… then I’ll eat my hat,” Kurt said. Blaine chuckled, and Kurt began to blush out of embarrassment. “Sorry, that-that was bad,” he said, a nervousness to his voice. “But honestly, with your talent, I bet you’ll win.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Blaine shyly said. “We’re still working on our second song so we’re going to practice that for the rest of the session, but you’re welcome to stay and watch, if you want to?”

“Yeah! I’d love to,” Kurt said, his cheekbones rising with a smile.

Blaine nodded. “Great,” he said, turning around and clapping his hands together. “Okay, everyone, Bohemian Rhapsody.” The Warblers all stood up and grouped together again, then began working on their acapella take on the second Queen song. Even though they without a doubt needed practice, Kurt enjoyed watching them for those 30 minutes. It seemed to bring back all his joyous glee club memories.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Kurt woke up to the sound of quiet, soothing rain, rather than a startling alarm, yelling at him to get up. Saturday was undoubtedly the best day of the week. He just lay there, cocooned in his warm duvet, listening to the rain fall onto the roof and blow against the window whenever there was a gust of wind. Although most people despised rain, Kurt loved it. It always made him feel calm and fresh and happy in a way, despite the grey, gloomy sky. He pulled his arms out from under the duvet and stretched them above his head, groaning at the way his muscles loosened, then he rolled over and reached onto his nightstand for his phone. He opened up his text conversation with Blaine and stared at it for a moment, still getting used to the light, before beginning to type.

 **Saturday** **January** **10** (8:24) **Kurt:** Thank you again for last night.

Before he could convince himself to get out of bed, his phone chimed, which shocked Kurt a little bit.

(8:26) **Blaine:** _Thank you for coming._

(8:27) **Kurt:** You’re up early.

Kurt thought he was the only person who actually _wanted_ to wake up before 11pm on the weekend. Obviously not.

(8:27) **Blaine:** _So are you._

(8:28) **Kurt:** Hmm.

(8:28) **Blaine:** _Did you sleep well?_

(8:29) **Kurt:** I did, thank you. I dreamt a lot. What about you?

(8:29) **Blaine:** _Yes, I did, if you exclude the car alarm that didn’t stop blaring until about 2am._

(8:30) **Kurt:** Oh god, that must’ve sucked.

(8:30) **Blaine:** _Mm, it did. But I’d rather forget that now and hear about your dreams._

(8:30) **Kurt:** I don’t think you really want to know what goes on in my head.

(8:31) **Blaine:** _I think I do._

(8:31) **Kurt:** Well then you’re quite obviously sleep deprived, because my dreams aren’t something you’d want to hear about. Trust me.

(8:32) **Blaine:** _Maybe they could inspire me._

(8:32) **Kurt:** Inspire you?

(8:32) **Blaine:** _They might give me something to write about._

(8:33) **Kurt:** Oh, you mean for your story. Well, I mean, maybe?...

(8:33) **Blaine:** _Is that a yes, then?_

(8:34) **Kurt:** Well…

(8:35) **Blaine:** _How about you come over to my place and we chat about them?_

(8:35) **Kurt:** You’d want me to come over merely to talk about my dreams?

(8:35) **Blaine:** _Well, I would like to get to know you some more, too._

(8:36) **Kurt:** I suppose I could do that.

(8:36) **Blaine:** _How about now?_

(8:37) **Kurt:** You mean, like, *right* now?

(8:37) **Blaine:** _Mhm._

(8:37) **Kurt:** It’s 8:30 am.

(8:37) **Blaine:** _Indeed._

(8:38) **Kurt:** Blaine, it’s still so early.

(8:38) **Blaine:** _I thought you said you were a morning person?_

Kurt chuckled to himself and rolled his eyes. Blaine really wasn’t one to give up without a fight.

(8:39) **Kurt:** Alright, alright. Fine. I will come over.

So after Blaine had texted Kurt his address and Kurt had procrastinated getting up for another 5 minutes, he finally rolled out of bed, pulled on some clothes, had a small breakfast and quickly tidied up his hair before grabbing his white umbrella and beginning his walk to Blaine’s house. It was only about ten minutes from his own, and he passed the street it was on during his walk to work. It was actually an exceptionally nice neighbourhood, with rows of short, orange-leaved trees either side of the road and grey-brown, old looking buildings. But even though the buildings were old, they definitely didn’t look cheap—they looked extremely beautiful and definitely more expensive than Kurt could ever afford.

The rain had begun to pour down heavier and gusts of wind would catch in his umbrella, almost pulling him backwards with the force, but luckily he reached Blaine’s house before he could get completely soaked and windswept. He knocked on the brown, wooden door, holding the soaking umbrella above his head, and not a moment later, he could hear a strange series of noises. It sounded like yapping. Like, a dog yapping. Did Blaine have a dog?

He could hear the key rattling in the lock, and when it opened, a small, bouncy, rough collie puppy was jumping at his legs. “Hi!” Kurt suddenly exclaimed, crouching down and greeting the puppy more than he was greeting Blaine, who was still looking quite sleepy with messy hair, jeans and a casual v-neck shirt. “Who’s this?” Kurt asked, petting the puppy and grinning at the way it quite obviously enjoyed Kurt scratching behind its ear.

“Clark,” Blaine responded, nervously chuckling. “Sorry, I forgot to mention that I have a dog.”

“Oh, he’s _adorable_ ,” Kurt said, steadying his umbrella over his shoulder as he petted over Clark’s body.

“ _She,_ ” Blaine corrected Kurt, causing him to look up from the petting session.

“You named a female dog _Clark_?” Kurt asked, a slightly puzzled look on his face. Blaine nodded, smiling widely as he watched Kurt and Clark at his feet, admiring how happy both of them looked together. A smile grew over Kurt’s face as he petted the puppy. “I like that,” he said.

“So… do you, um, do you want to come in?” Blaine asked after a few moments, smiling down at Clark who had now dropped onto her back at Kurt’s feet while he petted her stomach.

“Oh, yeah! Ye—sorry,” Kurt promptly responded as he stood up and stepped into Blaine’s house, Clark following him and then darting down the hallway, skidding on the wooden floor when she turned into a room. Kurt shook his umbrella outside the door before shutting it, then Blaine offered to take his coat, hanging it up on a hook.

“You have a very nice house,” Kurt said, admiring the hallway that had dark, wooden walls strewn with paintings and antiques.

“Oh, thank you,” Blaine chuckled, looking around it too. “Yeah, I’ve lived here for a year or two now.”

“I take it Dalton pays well?” Kurt said, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Well, it is a pretty fancy school...” Blaine said, raising an eyebrow at Kurt and chuckling as he spoke.

“Mm, I’m not surprised,” Kurt said, smiling at Blaine as they began to walk down the hallway.

“So, do you, uh, do you want a cup of tea or anything?” Blaine asked as they walked into the kitchen where Clark patiently sat, wagging her tail and panting.

“A cup of tea would be great, thanks,” Kurt said. Blaine nodded with a smile, then started boiling the kettle and took some mugs and a box of teabags out of the cupboard. Kurt could smell the scent of them, and although he spent most of his time in a cafe making tea, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the sweet, comforting fragrance.

“So, are you going to tell me about these dreams of yours?...” Blaine asked with a smile as he plopped the teabags into the mugs and then turned to face Kurt, who was leaning against the counter beside him.

“Ah, right,” Kurt said. “My dreams.”

“Mhmm.”

Kurt looked at Blaine with a smile, expecting him to say he didn’t actually really care about his dreams, but he still didn’t, which made Kurt quietly laugh. Blaine was genuinely interested, and that made Kurt feel oddly happy. “Well… last night I had a dream about dinosaurs…?” he said, smiling and tilting his eyebrows worriedly as he braced himself for a judgemental comment.

“Dinosaurs?” Blaine said with a chuckle, raising his brows and tilting his head. “Do go on.”

“O-okay...” Kurt said through gritted teeth. “Well, um, it was pretty chaotic… I remember I was visiting this place I used to go to with my mum when I was little, that’s like, a forest that leads to a hill. And apparently a dinosaur had escaped there, and when I got there I didn’t know this, but I started hearing these weird noises and then I saw this dinosaur and it was so scary, and I just started running and there was this random van on top of the hill that I jumped into, and then I suddenly got teleported into a car with my mum and I was so confused, and she was just looking really sadly at me and I was like, “what?” And then she just really quietly told me that Meryl Streep had died, and that Anne Hathaway had been swallowed by that dinosaur, but she didn’t die from being eaten, she instead had a stroke or something while she was inside it, and then I woke up,” Kurt said, then noticed the look on Blaine’s face. “Aaand you probably think I’m insane,” he added, laughing embarrassedly.

“No, no!” Blaine quickly exclaimed, laughing. “I promise you I don’t think you’re insane. I must say, that was an entertaining dream.”

Kurt tilted his head and squinted his eyes confusedly. “You don’t think it’s… weird?”

Blaine shook his head. “Kurt, you are far from weird. Yes, maybe you’re a little eccentric, but… that’s what I really like about you.”

Kurt smiled and blinked a few times to stop himself getting completely lost in thought. “W-well, uh… thank you?” he said, tilting his head.

“And I think you might’ve inspired me,” Blaine said, smiling fondly at Kurt as the kettle clicked and the bubbling noise of boiling water gradually faded away.

“How could a dream as weird as that have inspired you?” Kurt laughed, watching as Blaine poured water into both of the mugs, then got some milk out of the fridge, ready for when the tea had finished steeping.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at the things that inspire me,” Blaine said.

“Hm,” Kurt hummed, looking at Blaine’s face as he poured milk into the mugs of tea. “So, have you written any more of the story since I last asked?”

“Kind of…” Blaine said. “I haven’t really gotten past the whole meeting part yet, but like I said, you’ve inspired me.”

Kurt nodded and watched Blaine begin to stir the tea. “Well… is it a romance novel? Or just a… book about the life of a Londoner?” he asked.

“Maybe it’ll turn into a romance novel,” Blaine said, watching the tea swirl around the spoon as he stirred. “I’m not sure yet.” Kurt nodded in response, and then took the mug that Blaine handed him once he had finished stirring. “So, Kurt,” Blaine began, taking a sip of tea from his own mug. “Tell me about yourself.”

Kurt tilted his head. “Tell you about myself?” he asked, smiling over the brim of his mug.

“You know, things you like, hobbies, interests, etcetera etcetera...”

“Okay, well... I like fashion, obviously,” Kurt began.

“Obviously,” Blaine chuckled, eyeing Kurt’s outfit. It was more casual than usual: a navy blue cabled jumper, black skinny jeans and pointed Chelsea boots, and a thick, maroon scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, the ends draping down to his thighs.

“Aaaand I like music,” Kurt continued.

“Of course.”

“And _dogs_ ,” Kurt said, laughing as Clark ran around the kitchen, her claws clacking on the floor with every bound. Blaine hummed happily and took a sip of tea. “Oh, and tea,” Kurt added with a chuckle.

“I’m surprised you don’t get sick of it,” Blaine said, keeping the mug close to his face.

“Me too, honestly,” Kurt said, taking a sip and never really taking his eyes off Blaine’s.

“Are you _really_ happy working at that cafe, though?” Blaine asked, tilting his head.

Kurt shrugged. “Well, I mean, it’s not ideal,” he said. “I would prefer to work somewhere else, but, I don’t know...”

“Have you got any particular place in mind?” Blaine asked, smiling warmly at Kurt over the brim of his mug.

“Well, yeah, but...”

“But?” Blaine promptly responded.

Kurt chuckled shyly and averted his eyes to the floor. “But it’s stupid.”

“I highly doubt that,” Blaine reassured him. “Come on, spill.”

“Okay...” Kurt quietly and hesitantly said. “I’d like to work at Vogue.”

Blaine smiled at him. “I don’t think that’s stupid,” he said.

“But it just... doesn't seem very realistic, you know?” Kurt said, looking down into his mug of tea, the heat warming his hands from where he gripped around it. “I did go to University and stuff, but now… I'm kind of just a guy who works in a cafe in London,” he continued. “I don't think I'm the kind of person to be working in New York at _V_ _ogue.”_

Blaine smiled at Kurt in admiration. “I think you are,” he said, causing Kurt to look up from his tea.

“Y-you do?” he asked, and Blaine nodded.

“Kurt, your sense of fashion is _incredible_ and you're quite clearly very enthusiastic about it,” he said, gesturing to his outfit. “And when I look at you, I know this is cliché of me to say, I see potential. So yes, I do.”

Kurt hummed a laugh through his lips, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “Well, thank you, Blaine,” Kurt said with an appreciative smile. “There is actually an online application for the editor-in-chief's assistant right now, but… I don’t know.”

“You should go for it,” Blaine encouraged him.

“I-I don’t know,” Kurt said, a doubtful tone to his voice. “I mean, all you do is send in some pictures of your style and talk about yourself and your experience and stuff. But anyone can apply and the application is up for like, another _month_ or something _._ But it’s not even like you’re you’re _definitely_ going to get an interview. All these applicants are just...”—he paused for a moment, thinking—“on _standby_ , I guess you could say, for whenever somebody gets fired, which by the looks of things happens really, _really_ often... And I've also read about some people applying and then not getting contacted until like a year later, and they’re the lucky ones.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice calm and sure, “you should just do it." Kurt tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as he looked at Blaine. “You’re the most stylish person I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of stylish people, so if they didn't pick you, then frankly, they'd be insane,” he continued.

Kurt chuckled bashfully. “Thank you,” he softly said, then released a heavy breath. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to _try._ ”

So once he was back home that afternoon after he’d spent his morning chatting and having breakfast with Blaine (and Clark), he whipped up a quick salad and then sat at his kitchen table, staring at the Vogue application on his laptop. He had been in that same position for at least ten minutes now, just staring at the screen while picking at his salad. Part of him was still incredibly doubtful, but then there was another part of him that really wanted to apply. It was true, he had wanted a job like this for years, hence why he’d studied Fashion & Design at University, but he was still so scared to try. What if he didn’t get the job because his designs weren’t good enough and he just didn’t know enough about fashion and that knocked all his confidence? Or what if he _did_ get the job, but then he hated it and felt like all those years of studying had been a complete waste and he’d never get them back? But then, what if he _did_ get the job and he _did_ enjoy it? What if that’s what would happen if he applied?...

He took a deep breath and poised his fingers over the keyboard, then slowly typed out his name at the top of the page.

_**Kurt Hummel.** _

Next, they wanted photos of clothing he’d worn, so he uploaded several pictures of outfits he’d worn in the past. After that, they just wanted to know some information about him: his age, where he was from, past experience, etc, so he filled that out and once he reached the end of the application he just began staring again. One click and he could potentially become an employee at Vogue. This was so different from before when he had only _thought_ about applying, and now it was so undeniably real that it was almost scary.

A good kind of scary, though.

He took a deep breath, holding it as he moved the cursor over the send button, and clicked. He exhaled, breath shuddering as his mouth curled into a nervous smile. He bit his lip and pushed his laptop away, shutting it and looking down at his phone on the table beside him, thinking. After a moment, he picked it up and looked down at the screen with a little smile on his face.

(15:15) **Kurt:** So… I sent in my application.

(15:17) **Blaine:** _Really?!_  
(15:17) **Blaine:** _Oh, Kurt, that’s amazing! I bet you’ll get_ _the job._

(15:18) **Kurt:** Thank you! There are *so* many people trying out, though, so I’m not gonna get my hopes up.

(15:19) **Blaine:** That’s true. But I can guarantee that most of them aren’t half as stylish as you. ;)

(15:20) **Kurt:** So these winky faces are a thing, then?

(15:20) **Blaine:** Well ever since you called that one winky face out, they’ve had to become a thing. Obviously.

Kurt chuckled.

(15:21) **Blaine:** Also...

(15:21) **Blaine:** I think you tired her out with all that playing.

(15:23) **Kurt:** Oh my god, she’s adorable! Bless her.

(15:24) **Blaine:** You’ll have to visit again. She really likes you.

(15:25) **Kurt:** I might just take you up on that offer.

So on Sunday morning, Kurt had indeed taken Blaine up on his offer, and they’d gone for a gloomy-skied walk with Clark in Hyde Park.

“Who do you think planted all the trees in London?” Kurt asked Blaine as they walked down the path, looking at the trees that grew around the edges of the grassy, muddy gardens.

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, looking to Kurt at his side. “Maybe no one did. Maybe they just planted themselves.”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “I guess I never really thought about that. I always imagined someone hundreds and hundreds of years ago planting a single tree… that’s kind of unrealistic, though, I guess. People back then might not have even known how trees grow.” He smiled down at Clark who trotted in front of them, leading them more than they were leading her.

“It’s still a nice thought, though,” Blaine said. “Someone just planting a tree, watching it grow over time and create more trees. It’s crazy to think that the first tree that grew here might even still _be_ here.” Kurt looked at Blaine, humming happily through a smile. “What?” Blaine asked, noticing the look on Kurt’s face.

“Nothing,” Kurt said, shaking his head as he continued to smile at Blaine.

“Why are you looking at me like that, though?”

“I just like talking to you,” Kurt said, causing a smile on Blaine’s face. “I’ve never met anyone who actually _bothers_ to think about these kinds of things like I do. But you do, and I like that. It makes you interesting to talk to.”

“Well, I like talking to you too,” Blaine said happily. They looked at each other for a moment more before Blaine deeply exhaled and stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking up at the sky. “Do you like gloomy days like this?” he asked, enjoying the cool air on his face as he watched the grey clouds. It looked like it was going to rain soon—the sky had grown darker than it was when they first started the walk.

“It might seem strange, but yeah, I do,” Kurt answered, looking up at the sky too.

“That makes two of us, then.”

“Really?” Kurt asked, a slightly puzzled look on his face. Blaine nodded. “Okay, I’m liking you more and more by the minute,” Kurt chuckled, causing Blaine to softly laugh.

“It’s just always such a nice temperature when it’s gloomy like this, and rain makes me feel so…”—he paused for a moment, thinking—“...tranquil.”

“Exactly!” Kurt promptly responded, turning his head back to Blaine.

Blaine chuckled, then his attention was brought to a sudden gravelly scraping noise. “Oh, Clark’s found a stick,” he laughed, watching as she dragged along a stick that was evidently much too large for her.

“Looks more like a _branch_ up against her,” Kurt chortled.

“She’s still so small, bless her,” Blaine said, lovingly smiling at how she stumbled along, trying with all her might to carry it. He suddenly felt a cool drop of water on his skin.

And then another.

And then another.

And then so did Kurt. Before long, it was clear that light rain was beginning to fall down.

“I guess the clouds have finally decided to rain,” Blaine said, wrapping his coat around him as he glanced up at the dark grey, thunderous sky. “We should probably start heading back.”

“Yeah, as much as I love rain, I don’t particularly like getting drenched in it,” Kurt agreed.

As they began to make their way back to Blaine’s house, the rain quickly grew heavier. Before long, it had become so heavy that Blaine had had to pick Clark up and wrap her under his coat as they dashed towards the nearest shelter: a coffee shop just on the edge of Hyde Park. It was a No Dogs coffee shop, but after Blaine had pouted and pleaded with an employee and then showed her how innocent and adorable Clark looked under his coat, they were all eventually allowed him. After some looking around, they spotted a free table at the front of the cafe that faced outside and sat down at it. Blaine awkwardly removed Clark from under his coat and sat her on his lap so she wouldn’t try to run away, and in return received a couple of ‘ _Aww_!’s and ‘ _Ahh_!’s when people saw her. Kurt had gone to collect some coffees, and when he came back he was carrying sweet, round little mugs that had some pretty floral patterning on the surface.

Blaine thanked him and promptly took a sip as if he were testing it. “Not as good as your coffee,” he said after a moment of thought.

“You barely even _have_ my coffee,” Kurt stated with a chuckle as he sat down at the table and wrapped his hands around the warm mug, bringing it to his lips.

“Mmm, I know. That’s because I’m a shameless tea addict,” Blaine said, licking his lips. “But it’s still not as good as your coffee,” he added, then winked at Kurt.

“Oh my god _,_ ” Kurt groaned, rolling his eyes and pressing his fingers to his temple.

“What?” Blaine asked, a sly smile on his face as he sipped at his coffee.

“I cannot even look at you right now,” Kurt said, laughing awkwardly as he covered his eyes.

“Because I winked?”

“I just—I just can’t believe you did that,” Kurt said, grinning in embarrassment as he slowly looked back up at Blaine. “I mean in text form, sure. But _literally_ winking?”

“I told you they became a thing after _you_ told me you found them creepy,” Blaine said, a devilish look on his face.

“Okay, okay, sure. But if you wink at me like that again when we’re next hanging out and that time someone actually _sees_ it, I’m pretending like I don’t even know you,” Kurt said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“We’re gonna hang out again?” Blaine asked, tilting his head and steadying a fidgety Clark on his lap. Kurt looked at Blaine, his eyes wide and slightly nervous looking.

“W-well if you _want_ to, I mean,” he stuttered, feeling suddenly flustered, his grip around his coffee mug tightening. Blaine smiled warmly at Kurt for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Yeah,” he said. “I want to.”

Kurt’s face quickly relaxed into a smile. “Okay, but next time, _I’m_ choosing where we go,” he said with slight laughter.

“Fine by me,” Blaine chuckled. Clark suddenly stood up from her slumped position in Blaine’s lap, knocking his elbow and causing him to spill pretty much his whole mug of coffee. “ _Shit_ ,” he whispered under his breath, his hands flying up in response.

“Oh, God,” Kurt promptly exclaimed. “Um, stay there, I’ll get a napkin or something.” He swiftly stood up and hurried over to the counter, and was back within ten seconds carrying handfuls of napkins.

“Thank you,” Blaine said as Kurt quickly lay napkins down over the large area of spilt coffee. Blaine awkwardly held Clark on his lap while helping Kurt spread out the napkins to soak up all the coffee, and he kept self-consciously looking up to see people staring confusedly at their table. It must’ve looked absolutely chaotic considering the way they were awkwardly leaning over it as they frantically tried to wipe it, and then there was just a dog half wedged under it because she was too big to sit comfortably on Blaine’s lap anymore.

After a few minutes, they finally finished cleaning up as much as they could, and Clark just looked up at Blaine with the most innocent look on her face, even though she had just cost him a mug of coffee and about five minutes of humiliation while he cleaned up the table.

“Can we just leave before we get even more humiliated?” Kurt chuckled embarrassedly, noticing a few customers still looking at them. “The rain’s not as heavy anymore.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Blaine responded, awkwardly laughing as he picked Clark up and shuffled out of his chair with her wrapped in his arms. They quickly walked through the cafe and out the door, and when Blaine put Clark back down on the ground, he noticed dirt all over his clothes. “Ugh, crap,” he said, chuckling as he looked down at Clark’s wet and dirty paws. “I think we’re both gonna have to bathe when we get back home then.”

“Clark’s kind of like a kid, huh?” Kurt chuckled as they began to walk home.

“She really is,” Blaine said. “Just, one that finds it even harder to learn things. Apparently collies are supposed to be one of the most intelligent dog breeds, but Clark… she just has a mind of her own. I’m honestly surprised she willingly stays so close to me on walks when she doesn’t even have a leash.”

“She probably just feels safe when she’s near you,” Kurt said, watching Clark pad along in front of them. “Which is kind of adorable,” he added.

“Maybe,” Blaine said, and he chuckled when Clark suddenly happily leapt up into the air and yapped. “She’s ridiculous,” he added with a content sigh.

Once Blaine got home, he said goodbye to Kurt and went upstairs to the bathroom to run a warm bath for Clark. She wasn’t that keen on baths so it was quite difficult to keep her from constantly splashing around and growling as she tried to leap out, but after a good 15 minutes of Blaine getting absolutely soaked, she was finally clean enough, so he lifted her out and promptly wrapped her in a towel, then sat her in his lap so he could blow-dry her until her fur was fluffy and soft. He then carried her into his living room to put her in her bed, and as expected, she immediately fell asleep, so he took a picture and sent it to Kurt.

 **S** **unday** **January** **1** **1** (13:56) **Blaine:** _I j_ _ust_ _finished giving her a bath_ _and she’s fallen asleep already._

(13:59) **Kurt:** She just has the perfect life, doesn’t she? I’m incredibly jealous.

(14:00) **Blaine:** _Me too. She was an absolute nightmare in the bath, though. She splashed so much that I ended up having one too._

(14:00) **Kurt:** That really can’t have been fun.

(14:01) **Blaine:** I _t wasn’t._ _The things I go through for a_ _dog. A *dog*._

(14:02) **Kurt:** It’s sweet how much you care about her, though.

(14:03) **Blaine:** _Yeah, as much_ _of_ _a nuisance_ _as_ _she can be, I am really glad_ _that_ _I got her._

(14:05) **Kurt:** Blaine?

(14:05) **Blaine** **:** _Kurt?_

(14:05) **Kurt:** You make me really want a dog.

(14:06) **Blaine:** _I have that effect on people._

Kurt chuckled and switched his phone off.

He spent the rest of his day doing some chores he’d been putting off all week, then relaxing for a while until it was time for Project Runway, so that evening, he sat down on his sofa and ate his dinner while getting completely stuck into the tv. He was just about to screech at it because someone had made a mistake with their sewing when his phone chimed and stopped him from doing so.

 **Sunday January 11** (18:09) **Rachel:** _Kurt?_  
(18:09) **Rachel:** _Kurt._  
(18:10) **Rachel:** _Kurt, a_ _re you there???_

(18:10) **Kurt:** No.

(18:11) **Rachel:** _Okay, so you know that cute guy I was telling you about a few weeks back?_

(18:11) **Kurt:** I told you I wasn’t here.

(18:11) **Rachel:** _You’re replying to me._

(18:12) **Kurt:** You know my evenings are reserved for Project Runway.

(18:12) **Rachel:** _All you ever do is yell at it, though._

(18:13) **Kurt:** That’s not true. I sometimes squeal at it, too.  
(18:13) **Kurt:** Oh, and that reminds me! I applied for a job at Vogue.

(18:13) **Rachel:** _WHAT?!_  
(18:13) **Rachel:** _Okay, this conversation was supposed to be about me, but…_  
(18:14) **Rachel:** _WHAT?!?!_

(18:14) **Kurt:** I applied for a job at Vogue. I doubt I’ll get it, though.

(18:15) **Rachel:** _Kurt, th_ _at’s amazing_ _! I’ve been trying to convince you to apply for *months*!! What changed your mind?_

(18:15) **Kurt:** *Who*, rather.

(18:15) **Rachel:** _???_

(18:16) **Kurt:** Blaine did.

(18:16) **Rachel:** _Cafe Blaine?_

(18:17) **Kurt:** ...Yes?

(18:17) **Rachel:** _Blaine who stays and_ _writes_ _in the cafe every Monday morning Blaine?_

(18:17) **Kurt:** Yes.

(18:18) **Rachel:** _Blaine who you exchanged numbers with Blaine?_

(18:18) **Kurt:** Okay, no, Rachel. Blaine the Roman who lived thousands of years ago, creating the city of Rome with his bare, muscular hands.  
(18:18) **Kurt:** Yes of course I mean Blaine from the cafe.

(18:19) **Rachel:** _Huh._  
(18:19) **Rachel:** _You guys hang out, then?_

(18:20) **Kurt:** Well, yeah, we have a few times.

(18:20) **Rachel:** _And he knows you’re just friends?_

(18:21) **Kurt:** Rachel, I told you he’s straight, and he said he has a girlfriend. Don’t worry.

(18:21) **Rachel:** _Okay._

(18:21) **Kurt:** Oh, and you remember Dalton Academy?

(18:22) **Rachel:** _From that one year at Sectionals?_

(18:22) **Kurt:** Yeah. He was in that glee club, and he teaches it now!!  
(18:23) **Kurt:** And he took me to one of the glee club sessions!!!

(18:23) **Rachel:** _Why don’t you ever TELL me about these things?!_ _You’re so lucky!!_

(18:24) **Kurt:** I don’t know, I guess I forgot. But it’s so cool, right?!

(18:24) **Rachel:** _I’m jealous. Those Warbler boys were hoooottt._

(18:25) **Kurt:** Hopeless. You’re hopeless.  
(18:25) **Kurt:** But talking about hot boys, what were you going to tell me about that “cute guy”?

(18:26) **Rachel:** _Oh, right._  
(18:26) **Rachel:** _He asked me out on a date!!_

(18:27) **Kurt:** I’m assuming you said yes?

(18:27) **Rachel:** _Yes!!!_

(18:28) **Kurt:** That’s great, Rach! I’m so happy for you.

Kurt wasn’t happy, though. As much as he’d eliminated the majority of his lovey-dovey feelings, he still wanted to love someone, and seeing Rachel just go and get a date with someone, seeing how _easy_ it was for her, just upset Kurt and made him more envious than he would’ve liked to be. But that was just the way things had to be for now, and he’d have to accept that. He’d leave future Kurt to deal with all that scary coming out stuff.


End file.
